I found the girls on bar stools around the marble island in the kitchen. It was the kind of kitchen any baker would love. It was Jessi’s kitchen, after all, and she needed three industrial sized ovens. I turned to the fridge, the same stainless steel as the oven, stove, and microwave, and asked which ice cream the girls wanted.
“I want strawberry, please, Aunty.” Breanna, always the polite one, informed me sweetly.
“Yuck! I don’t like strawberry! I would like rocky road, please.” Rhiannon, the bossier of the two and always the most opinionated, cried out from her perch by her sister.
They were two peas in a pod, but they were also quite different when it came
to their personalities. Even if they were identical.
“You two don’t know how lucky you are to have a mother who’s a baker,” I
muttered, more to myself than to them. I pulled out two cartons of ice cream from the freezer and a plate of brownies from the drawer above it. I microwaved the brownies for a minute and added the ice cream to each bowl, before I added a spoon and gave the bowls to the girls.
I’d only put in small amounts, the girls were still little after all, and sat with them, a small bowl of my own in front of me. “What movie are we going to watch, girls?”
The girls began to argue about which family-friendly movie they wanted to
watch first, and my thoughts drifted. Jessi and Trent were off for a charity ball, and I’d been enlisted to watch the girls and baby Harry. I knew the routine. I’d helped with babysitting since the girls were first born and had also helped with my other nieces and nephews.
Over the last five years, what was a small family of three brothers and a sister, had turned into one huge family. I often spent time flying back and forth to watch the children who resulted from my brothers’ unexpected, but totally welcome, romances. The hard men I’d barely known in my younger days had now become men with a softness around their hard edges, and I was a spinster.
I looked at the bowl in front of me, totally untouched, and imagined a candle on the top of it. The birthday song played in my head, and I had to swipe a tear away. How had all of them forgotten it was my birthday? I hadn’t received a call from any of my brothers or my sisters-in-law. Even Trent and Jessi had forgotten about the event.
I’d kind of hoped that one of them would remember, that there’d been a surprise element to tonight’s babysitting gig, but no. Just a charity event somewhere in downtown Myrtle Beach that they’d planned to attend. Jessi had looked glorious in a black velvet gown, and Trent was always impressive in a tux.
I swiped at the blonde ponytail that had fallen over my shoulder and gave the girls a wan smile.
“What’s wrong, Aunty?” little Rhiannon asked softly. She put her spoon
down and put her tiny little hand on my cheek. “Do you have a sad?”
“I do, honey, but you two make it all better. And Harry, of course.”
“Do you want to watch a grown-up movie instead of one of our movies?”
Breanna added from her stool.
“No, honey, it’s fine. Let’s wash up the bowls and settle in. A nice long cuddle with you two will make it all better.” I loved my siblings and their children, but sometimes, I wanted what they had for myself.
I didn’t resent that I was the family’s version of Mary Poppins. I just wanted them to recognize that three flights a week was too much, and that I needed time to myself. And to have my special dates noticed. I only really had one, after all; why had it been so hard to remember this year?
Jessi and Trent had a new baby to deal with, as did Mason and Laura. They’d adopted a lovely little girl a month ago to add to the two children they’d had previously. Ember and Kevin only had one child, a beautiful little version of Ember that they’d called Bridget after her mother. That still amused me, that Ember’s real name was Bridget Jones.
I’d loved Ember from the moment I met her, and that voice? She was a wonder, but then all of my sisters-in-law were wondrous. Then there was me.
The family caretaker and a spinster. What a life.
The girls surprised me and fell asleep twenty minutes into the movie. We’d
piled up on the broad, black velvet couch in front of the large screen television, one on each side of me, and I was now stuck between them. I didn’t want to wake them up, but my phone began to buzz. I struggled for a moment and wanted to scream when the phone almost fell off the edge of the end table, but I caught it.
I opened the screen to see a text from my friend, Roxie Simpson, on the screen.
<Hey, girl, happy birthday. Want to celebrate with me after my set?>
I grinned, the pain in my chest eased just a fraction. I thought about what to say, about what she offered, and decided that, yes, I did want to celebrate.
<Are you sure you want to party with an old woman like me? I’m twenty-seven now!>
The response was almost instantaneous, and I grinned wider.
<Shut up, you aren’t old. You’re only a few months older than me. Meet me at my apartment around ten?>
<I’ll be there. I have to wait for Trent and Jessi to get back, then I’ll be there.>
I felt a little better about life after that, and I couldn’t wait to see what Roxie had in store. She wasn’t the kind of person you’d associate with a woman of my class. My father owned hotel chains across the world, but she was one of the best friends I had. Now that Jessi was a wife and mother, I spent a lot of time with my best friend too busy to talk to me.
I’d met Roxie at a fundraiser I’d been part of. She’d helped to organize the event, and we’d hit it off. She’d been in a wonderful lavender suit that fit her form, but she’d looked classy and well put together with her makeup in place and her manners impeccable. I hadn’t known she was a stripper until she told me. Exotic dancer, that’s what she called it.
Only she wasn’t just an exotic dancer, the woman had skills and had won competitions all over the country with her performances. She continued to perform, but in her spare time, she volunteered with the charity I’d become a part of. She worked at some kind of exclusive gentlemen's club, code for strip joint, but she’d alluded to the fact that it was far more than that.
I’d often wondered about those allusions, and exactly what Roxie did to earn her money. She lived in a nice apartment on the outskirts of Myrtle Beach and drove a nice car. She always looked impeccably dressed, unless she was at home, and then she’d put on jeans and a tank top, or shorts and sweaters. Basically, she was just like me, except I lived in a mansion, didn’t really have a specific job, was rich, and the world was my oyster. She had to work for her money.
I wasn’t judging her; that wasn’t the problem at all. On the contrary, I was quite intrigued about Roxie’s life. She said she found her routines to be an escape, and the other tasks she did; well, sexual gratification was always a good thing. I wouldn’t know. But I wanted to.
I took the girls up to their bedroom, put them each in their little pink fairy princess beds, and left a nightlight on for them. Jessi and Trent would be back
soon, and I’d be on my way. I went downstairs to check on Harry, found him awake, and gave him a bottle while we waited.
